Hokkaido Hustle: A Noir
by moonmochiissticky
Summary: (Rei/Usagi yuri set very early in the Dark Kingdom Arc, before the appearance of Makoto/Sailor Jupiter. This is just the beginning. Let me know if it piques your interest.) When Rei's homeroom teacher mysteriously disappears and she receives a suspicious homework assignment, it's up to the original trio of Senshi to get to the bottom of it. CW: Drug Use
1. Chapter 1: The Assignment

It was Friday afternoon—four PM—the last class of the day—AP Theology with Sister Takeuchi. All that was missing was the instructor. Rei Hino plunged into her assigned seat the way a downed hot air balloon deposits its deflated mass onto the canopy of a forest. She draped herself in a lopsided & uneven manner over the whole of the desk—indifferent to the quizzical glances of the other hot air balloons who, hanging about the room at the end of what had been a grueling school day, somehow remained afloat. Thick beams of late-summer sunlight, defined by shimmering dust particles whirling within them, slanted into the classroom and cut it into a map of the world: continents and islands and archipelagos of shadow swam in a sea of hazy light.

The lines of this map and the shapes they delineated, however, were not stationary. The shadows mutated and metamorphosed. Land masses broke apart and danced around one another, only to congeal again into a new and utterly different atlas. Wherever the shadows vanished, a sunlight sea rushed in to fill the resulting void.

One island in particular had captured Rei's attention. She followed it with her eyes as it drifted across the length of the blackboard, jumped onto the fronds of a plastic tropical houseplant situated in one corner of the room and, shifting its course, made its way toward her. Just as she was about to make landfall on this tiny isle, which had sprouted several corkscrew jetties and a jagged peninsula, the shadow was replaced by a pair of feet.

These feet, which filled the characteristic Mary Janes and pure white knee-high stockings of the T*A Private Girls School uniform, belonged to a girl named Mei Onishi, a young woman whose shoes had also stepped tidily into the role of Rei's class rival.

Mei was the picture of traditional Japanese beauty: fair skinned—a small, almost perfectly symmetrical face with a straight, high-bridged nose—dark, straight hair that seemed to drink in the light and glow at the same time, like a dark fire smoldering with energy just beyond the visible wavelengths of light. Rei was a realist and could admit the girl was prettier than her, if only by virtue of the strikingly impeccable harmony of her facial features.

Rei issued a groan that bared her rising frustration at the prospect of having to exert herself in even the slightest capacity and lifted her eyes to meet the gaze of Miss Onishi, which was pregnant with glee. Sensing the need to initiate this farcical interaction, Rei asked the girl deadpan,

"Need to borrow a pencil again, Mei?"

"Oh, Rei," Mei replied "that was two whole years ago. If you can remember something like that, it means you're studying your enemies carefully. And if you're studying your enemies carefully, you should know that I have never been unprepared for class since that day."

Rei rolled her eyes, glanced out the windows to the increasingly clouded slice of evening sky visible from inside the classroom, and made a small show of deliberating her reply.

"You know I like you, Mei. You have spunk," she offered with greater vulnerability and exasperation, "I respect you. Therefore _you_ are the author of this enmity. You tend to it like the nuns tend to the school rose garden. But to speak openly of it—as if it's an institution—something people talk about—well, I suppose at this point I'll have to address it." Rei's tone of resignation was gone; she was playing the game again. "Perhaps a public apology for the emotional trauma I've caused you as a rapacious creditor of pencils?"

Mei smiled. Her smile was devilish, and she knew it vexed Rei Hino in a visceral way—like an adrenaline response to a growling animal. Its power was made more bewitching by the unspoken consensus between the two girls that Rei's flimsy argument of unilateral contention was plainly false. Rei knew as well as Mei did that, as the most popular girl in school, her position of power would always be under siege. Rei was not the sort of person to meet such challenges coolly, and she conceded to her innermost self that she was sometimes unusually cruel to the other girls.

In retrospect, it was perhaps a misstep on Rei's part to cultivate a trend that had the underclassman calling her 'Queen Rei.' Thrones demand pretenders, after all. Unbeknownst to her rival, though, Rei was profoundly bored with court life and palace intrigue.

"I'd adore a public apology!" Mei continued, unfazed, "Maybe you can make that the subject of your original song at the Fall Festival. But I digress, Rei. Are you well? You look dreadfully exhausted _._ " She really wrung out that qualifier—dreadful.

Rei shook her head and again averted her eyes. A weary grin tugged at her cheeks. "My after-school responsibilities _have_ taken on an unprecedented intensity lately. How are you sleeping, Miss Onishi? Or should I ask whom are you sleeping with? I heard you left the tennis academy last Wednesday evening with not one but two—"

"Save it, Hino," Mei interjected, dispensing with her pretense of friendliness and taking on a tone that was suddenly severe. She produced a colorful, compact volume of manga from within her blazer and tossed it onto the desk before Rei. "I came to return this to you. It fell out of your satchel on the bus this morning." Rei blushed. She rarely removed her beloved manga from its home on the large bookshelf in her room at Hikawa Shrine. Last night, though, she and Ami had staked out a community swimming pool per Luna's instructions and she'd brought some light reading to pass the time.

Most of Rei's peers were outgrowing manga and anime, filling their free time with activities that allowed them to play at being adults. Rei considered herself an old soul, though, and she believed that soon those same girls would be longing for the simplicity of a childhood that had ended too soon. She worried that Ami Mizuno might meet this fate as well, but at least Ami was trading her innocence for something of value. In Rei's estimation her vacuous classmates were giving it up for something worth less than nothing: the attention of boys.

"Thanks," Rei uttered meekly, blushing still more vividly and avoiding Mei's eyes, uncertain of her adversary's next move.

"I would have kept it for a while but I've read it already." Mei said with a shrug. Rei had no choice but to look up from her desk to study the girl's face for signs of mockery or sarcasm. Strangely enough, for perhaps the first time ever, Mei Onishi seemed wholly sincere.

As a shaman and more recently as a Sailor Guardian, Rei was accustomed to anomalies, enigmas, and the supernatural. But Mei Onishi offering an olive branch? This was even stranger than doing battle with extradimensional dæmons while most girls her age were at home studying or better yet—getting some rest. It was true that she was exhausted—dreadfully exhausted. Answering her newfound calling as Sailor Mars, keeping Hikawa Shrine from burning to the ground and navigating the perils of middle school amounted to a juggling act that was becoming increasingly difficult to pull off. She questioned the soundness of her mind, then dismissed the notion. Not even a cracked mind could dream up what was taking place before her eyes.

"Also this," said Mei, producing Rei's red transformation pen from the pocket inside her crested uniform jacket. Rei's eyes widened and she snatched the pen from Mei's delicate hand more roughly than was necessary. Her heart began a spirited attempt at beating out of her chest. She immediately lodged the magic pen in her jacket pocket. She'd been yanked from uneasy to shaken and was at a loss for words.

Mei's expression of curious concern revealed that she had noticed Rei's panicked reaction to being reunited with the artifact, whatever it was. But she brushed it off. She had to say what she came to say. "Look, Rei," began Mei, "Your pre-teen fan club and the sycophants you call friends in our grade are obviously too afraid of angering you to say this, but everyone's kind of worried about you. You always seem tired, you've missed a lot of school, your grades are suffering—at least according to last week's posted exam results."

Stranger than fiction, indeed. Rei was too delirious to process all this at that moment, but Mei's hunch was correct: under normal circumstances Rei would have met this revelation, no matter the messenger, with the all the grace and poise of an agitated hornet's nest. _And just who do you think you are?! You're one to talk! You have some nerve!_ These thoughts barged into Rei's consciousness, but it was as though she were seated in a darkened theater in her own mind, watching someone else think them on a flickering movie screen behind her eyes. At present she could only continue to stare shellshocked at Mei and shore up what little remained of her own razed composure.

"Whatever," Mei blurted out fiercely as she registered Rei's compounding helplessness, "don't make this weird. I just wanted to let you know that people are talking."

With that, Mei Onishi turned and followed the column of desks behind Rei's desk to the back of the classroom, where her clique had congregated. Predictably, they were stealing furtive glances at Rei and giggling intermittently.

Niko Akishima, a skinny girl with a tight bob haircut and enormous Coke-bottle glasses who was once close with Rei but had been poached by Mei during some silly spat yesteryear, noticed Rei noticing her and waved. The other girls giggled heartily at this gesture but Rei thought she glimpsed notes of real pity and longing in Niko's visage. Whatever Niko's intent, Mei greeted the bespectacled girl with a swift slap to the left temple, prompting yet more laughter. Rei narrowed her eyes and turned to once again face the front of the classroom.

The clock, the same generic clock one seems to find ensconced in every classroom of every school the world over—with its white face, bold black numbers, black hour and minute hands, and a narrow needle-like red hand that ticked off seconds— hung like a dead beacon above the blackboard, indicating that Sister Takeuchi was almost ten minutes late. Unlike everything else that had just played out, this was not unusual. Rumors that she sometimes neglected to show up to afternoon lecture at all had been floated, though Rei had never witnessed that first hand.

Rei again clutched her blazer and felt for her transformation pen. It was still safely tucked into the front pocket. It occurred to her then that, barring supernatural meddling, it must have fallen from there earlier on the bus. Unwilling to repeat such a grave oversight, she removed it from her pocket and, reaching through the buttons on her shirt, clipped it onto her bra. Her heart rate was slowing and her mind, which had suffered something analogous to a computer crash, picked up the slack and began to race instead: Was Mei associated with the enemy? Doubtful—Rei had known her since early childhood. But now that Rei was taking orders from a talking cat, anything was possible.

Perhaps Mei was an enemy in her own right tendering a threatening message by abducting Rei's pen. The dark kingdom's finest weren't exactly subtle and such an M.O. would distinguish Mei as a separate threat.

Worse yet, what if Mei was just Mei? Rei obviously had a time management issue that would require attention. She wasn't the greatest student in the world academically, but to compensate she was very involved in extracurriculars and appearances had to be upheld. She resolved to seek Ami Mizuno's counsel concerning this matter. ' _And what was that shit about the manga?'_ Rei couldn't help but be reminded of a trope in the well-trodden superhero genre wherein the villain proclaims to the hero, "You know, we're not so different, you and I." Rei scoffed at the thought. Of course they were different—practically opposites—one girl was a shallow, jealous, petty bitch and the other was Rei.

Outside, the sky was a backlit fire opal. Splinters of warm light, each a different color, singed the darkening wisps of clouds—molten oranges, deep reds and lively pinks bled onto the towers of the Azabu-Jūban skyline.

Rei knew Tokyo owed her ravishing, otherworldly sunsets to air pollution. She often mused that this unnatural phenomenon was a vain final attempt by the smoldering fires of the day to cleanse a civilization that had defiled the spirits of the air with sulfur and smog. Even now, rattled as she was, her own fiery spirit acknowledged the dwindling flames and responded in kind.

Rei heaved a sigh and returned her manga to her leather satchel. She then straightened her blouse and jacket, and tightened the crimson bow that tied atop her chest. This two-part ritual was a tick of hers, a subconscious assertion that she was in control of her faculties—cool, calm and collected—even if it wasn't necessarily true.

Just as Rei was about to dig some homework from her bag and at least make use of what was shaping up to be a free period, a girl's head—just her head, cocked at an odd angle & bearing a distressed countenance half-hidden behind a curtain of black hair—appeared in the doorway of the classroom. This head belonged to Rei's de facto sidekick, Sara Moriyama, a stout yet well-proportioned and pretty girl with big, bright eyes who stood all of four feet eight inches tall.

As soon Sara registered that Sister Takeuchi was also late, her body followed her head into the room and her expression melted into one of relieved gaiety. She struck a triumphant pose and declared loudly, to Rei and everyone else by default, "Thank _God_ Sister Takeuchi's not here. It's only August and I already have _three_ tardies!"

No sooner had Sara made her confession than a light-footed elderly nun—not Sister Takeuichi—swept into the room and placed a heavy stack of papers onto the teacher's podium.

Sara, sensing this presence behind her, lost all her color and took on the sickly grimace of one who's seen a ghost. The remainder of the students, even Rei, were barely able to suppress their laughter at the girl's predicament.

"Please be seated, Miss Moriyama," said Sister Inoue, who'd had a stroke in the recent past and spoke very slowly and strenuously. "We'll call it even today,"

"Yes ma'am," Sara squeaked meekly and dove into her seat in the front row beside Rei, who was grinning and shaking her head. Sara made her best attempt at becoming invisible, staring squarely and motionlessly at her bare desk.

"I'd like to apologize to the rest of you," began Sister Inoue, "Sister Takeuchi has fallen very ill. Please keep her in your prayers." At this Rei and Sara exchanged a glance—their teacher had appeared perfectly hale mere hours ago.

"She has left me with an assignment that you are to complete in her absence, which will be indefinite," continued the nun, "You all are dismissed for the day. Miss Moriyama, my dear, please distribute these to your classmates as they exit."

* * *

Luna trudged along at a brisk trot beside Usagi Tsukino as they pushed together down the sidewalk of a Tokyo thoroughfare bustling with rush hour traffic & commotion. The torrid orange light of the setting sun glinted off the sunglasses of strangers and cast long, distorted shadows that mingled with one another a distinctive drama all their own.

Usagi was all tuckered out after what had been a singularly trying day at school, even by her standards. Luna hadn't managed to squeeze the details from her teenage charge, but her impression was that everything that could have gone wrong did go wrong. It took a serious trouncing to break Usagi's merry cheer, and she seemed definitely broken.

Though she would never state it plainly, Luna admired Usagi's capacity to remain kind and optimistic in the face of malicious people and hopeless situations. Luna certainly didn't enjoy being so strict with her and the others, but it was necessary due to the raw and undisciplined nature of these young Senshi. ' _There will be time for a heart to heart_ ,' she thought, ' _after the Moon Princess reveals herself_.'

Looking up at the bustling foot traffic, Luna observed that she and Usagi were swimming upstream in a river of smartly dressed businesspeople. She realized that they were not following their usual route home from school and that she didn't know exactly where Usagi was leading her. She questioned whether Usagi knew where she was leading herself. There was a notable contrast between Usagi's listlessness and the energy of the professional folk and students engaged in their second daily migration, which was simply a reversal of the first. Luna had to admit that she was still very puzzled by this custom, which seemed to her a waste of energy. Why not work where one lives and vice versa? It would certainly have served Usagi to be educated close, if not contiguous to where she slept and ate. Perhaps then she would be on time to school. These humans could learn a thing or two from cats in Luna's most humble opinion.

Suddenly, Usagi stopped short in the middle of the sidewalk and perked, exclaiming,

"Look, Luna, there's Rei! In the window of the café accross the street! Luna! Look, Luna! Luna! Do you see her?!" Usagi knew that Luna was unable to speak in front of civilians, lest she blow her cover. Luna, without concealing her pique, sounded an affirmative meow. Before the contemptuous kitty could recover her dignity, however, Usagi had scooped her off the sidewalk and bolted forth into the frozen artery of gridlocked automobiles that separated them from Café. The sight of this prompted a few frustrated commuters to honk at Usagi. Luna—bouncing along helplessly in Usagi's tenuous grasp, forepaws aloft—peered into the big bay window of the café, which was nestled cozily into the ground floor of a much larger building with a brutalist concrete facade. She saw Rei look up from her tea, curious as to what might be causing such a ruckus.

Rei's face fell when she saw what was approaching her and she cursed under her breath. After class had let out early, she'd ducked with a few friends into the Beeline Café—a haunt of T*A Private Girls School students—for a cup of tea and to relate to her cohorts what had happened with Mei. In other words, it was a bitch sesh—but what wasn't when any two or more of Rei's tight-knit clique converged?

The appearance of Usagi and Luna at that moment did not bode well for the successful consummation of Rei's plan to share one pot of tea with her friends and promptly head home to get some sleep. She had an almost palpable sense that she was about to be roped into some fresh insanity or other just when she most needed repose. She was also nervous that, in her delirium, she might reveal to Usagi and Luna that she had almost lost her transformation pen or make a similar mistake in their presence. She could not allow herself to show weakness in the company of Usagi, whose weakness she loathed. Once Rei was certain the Usagi was going to barge into the café, she cleared her throat, halting the others' chit chat, and announced,

"Hey you guys, here comes an acquaintance of mine from public school. Do me a favor and don't mention that stuff with Mei."

Her lieutenants nodded, puzzled but unquestioning.

"Also," added Rei, in a mocking, childish voice "be nice to her or she might _cwy_." Holding two clinched fists to her cheeks, she mimed wiping tears from her eyes, eliciting a few cautious laughs from her courtiers.

Just then, Usagi threw ajar the door to the quaint café, ringing a bundle of jingle bells tied to the doorknob. Rei flushed red when she noticed that Usagi was still toting Luna, who obviously didn't appreciate her predicament and was wriggling in protest. Rei glanced at the bored barista who was seated on a stool behind the counter, expecting him to eject Luna from the café. To her surprise he did no such thing, hardly even acknowledging Usagi's noisy entrance. Part of the Beeline's charm was its relaxed atmosphere, but didn't Luna's presence constitute a health code violation?

Once inside, it took Usagi a moment to orient herself even though she had clearly spotted Rei through the window of the small establishment. The café was filled with shelves, antique furniture, folk art, and other oddities that partitioned the floorspace into smaller and more intimate nooks. Upon glimpsing Rei's majestic mane of jet black hair through the gaps a suit of armor, she practically dropped Luna onto the floor and made her way through the labyrinth of decor to where Rei was holding court. Luna was quicker however, darting under obstacles and leaping into Rei's lap.

"Hello, Luna," cooed Rei. Luna settled into the girl's lap, curled her tail around her own body, and shot Rei a look that said _This wasn't my idea._ Rei was sitting in a dilapidated ballroom chair with a red Toile cushion and black metal frame—one of seven chairs arranged in a loose circle around a venerable old wooden coffee table that looked like it had come through the Second World War.

Rei wore the light that was bursting in through the bay window well. Luna noticed Rei's sparkling black eyelashes, and below them, tired eyes.

"Awww, cute kitty" squealed Sara Moriyama, who was seated in a small but ornate armchair with olive-green faux-velvet upholstery to Rei's left—tea in one hand, odango dumplings the other.

"Everyone, this is Luna," announced Rei proudly, just as Usagi appeared behind her, out of breath and panting.

"And this," she continued, with much less enthusiasm, "is Usagi Tsukino. Usagi, this is Hanako, Harumi, Ryoko, and Annushka. And of course you've met Sara." The girls nodded one by one as Rei made their respective introductions. Usagi responded with a deep, over-exaggerated bow and nervously half-shouted,

"Pleased to meet you all!"

Usagi, taking a seat on the arm of Rei's large armchair, sensed that Rei was annoyed at her sudden appearance. Rei was obviously embarrassed by her, but embarrassment on Rei's part wasn't out of the ordinary. The girls had gotten off to a rocky start as fellow Sailor Soldiers. So rocky, in fact, that Usagi doubted whether or not they were even truly friends.

Usagi was not the sort of girl who could change her proverbial stripes to appease others. She could only dig in and become more Usagi-esque, hoping that eventually her detractors might see past her immaturity and other flaws to her kind heart. Rei Hino, in Usagi's opinion, could use a lesson in compassion; and if nothing else, Usagi was persistent.

"So, Rei," Usagi began, breaking the awkward silence of tea-sipping and traffic ambience, "what're our plans for this weekend? Are we going to shop for manga like we usually do? Im sure we'll find the issue of Sailor V that's missing from your collection if we just keep looking. Maybe we can take the train to Yokohama and check the manga shops there."

Rei flushed crimson as Usagi played right into her expectations. There was a cunning, mischievous side to Usagi Tsukino that Rei appreciated about as much as Usagi's other sundry characteristics: not at all. Rei's clique did their best to ignore Usagi's remark, clearing their throats or gazing off into space as if nothing had been said by anyone.

"We have not nor will we ever _shop for manga_ together," Rei snarled venomously, adding "and you know full well that because of _your_ inability to be responsible and show up for our interscholastic community service club," (this is what they had taken to calling their superhero enterprise around civilians), "that I barely slept at all last night and desperately need to rest. Not all of us can be like you and sleep all day when we should be taking care of business."

Rei crossed her arms and scoffed. She really knew how to cut to the marrow. Usagi, however, was feeling resilient at that moment. Rei's critique had reminded her that it was indeed the beginning of another weekend. She had been marginally aware of this before, but the gravity of her good fortune hadn't sunk in until then. Usagi couldn't help but smile.

"I see you've had a rough day at school, Rei," said Usagi, patting Rei's head as one might a child or a dog. "But your dear friend Usagi Tsukino is here now, and you can tell me all about it."

Rei shook her head, softening a little, but only because she was too drained to effectively spar with Usagi without pushing her to tears. No one wanted that outcome. It was too loud.

"If I buy you a latte will you at least pull up a seat and get your rear end out of my face?" Rei asked Usagi, defeated. Usagi leapt up from the armrest of Rei's chair nodded exuberantly.

"And a treat for Luna! I'll pay you back, promise!" Usagi exclaimed. Turning to Usagi that only they could hear, Rei whispered, "You smell like you just ran from a dog!"

With that, Rei produced a 1,000 yen note and handed it to Usagi, who snatched the money and stuck her tounge out at Rei. Rei returned the gesture, pulling on the bottom of her right eyelid. Usagi, indignant, wandered through the maze of furnishings to the café's counter, where she found the barista asleep at his post. He was older—cute but a little chubby. Not that Usagi could blame anyone for enjoying the finer aspects of life on this earth, i.e. food.

The unusually high wooden counter, painted in wide black and yellow stripes that evoked the apparel of a bee, was crowded with wares. Newspapers, bags of coffee beans, chocolate bars, other candies, mugs and teacups all competed for space with the conventional inhabitants of a shop counter: cash register, tip jar, credit card machine, a bell. Usagi was, as a rule, prone to even the laziest marketing strategies—captivated by novelty—a seasoned window shopper. But the Beeline's conspicuous and well-meaning but totally misguided attempt to be a trendy American style café broke the spell even for her. Instead of inspecting the merchandise, she gave in to her impish impulses and determined to have a little fun with the barista. Usagi smacked the button of the call bell on the counter several times in quick succession. She struck her stock Sailor moon pose as the barista nearly fell off his stool from shock. Usagi smiled and laughed.

"Don't worry," she said merrily, beaming, "I won't tell."

The barista was not amused.

"What do you want?" he asked, massaging the bridge of his nose. The teenage girls from the private school around the way were annoying enough. He hoped the appearance of this dumpling-headed young lady did not signify that the café was gaining a foothold among the remaining schoolchildren of Tokyo.

"Fine," Usagi exclaimed, "maybe I will tell!" The barista sighed. Sensing that she wasn't about to brighten this person's day with laughter, Usagi ordered some whipped cream for Luna and a cup of coffee—black, the better to appear more mature to Rei and her friends—and conceded to herself that she may not belong in this sober world of private-school students and hip cafés. She preferred the arcade and her mother's tea. Growing up was a dark and bitter prospect, like the black coffee she was about to suffer through.

Careful not to spill her very hot drink, Usagi made her way back to Rei and company. She found a seat between Annushka, the Russian girl, and Hanako and Harumi, who were obviously identical twins. Much to Usagi's relief, a conversation had flourished in her absence.

"This assignment," said Annushka in her viscous Russian accent, "is making no sense." She gestured to a packet of papers in her right hand. The remainder of Rei's posse, excluding Rei, were pouring over the same school assignment. The twins shared one copy.

Harumi, whose overall style bore a resemblance to Ami with her crop haircut and studious demeanor, looked up from the packet and said, "Ignoring the bizarre presentation of the assignment, which is puzzling enough, there seem to be a pair of geographic coordinates on every page."

Curious, Usagi cocked her head towards the twins and glanced at the papers in question. She couldn't make out the details of the muddled mess that had been copied on the page, but it was definitely no ordinary school assignment. The coordinates Harumi had referred to were not immediately noticeable. Rather, it looked as though someone had dumped out a bucket of fishing bait onto the photocopier, smeared it around and xeroxed the resulting mess. Earthworm-like curlicues of white space writhed amidst grainy blackness, which was occasionally broken up by other oddly shaped white spots. It was vaguely unsettling.

"Is it art you suppose? Is this an art assignment?" Hanako, who wore her hair long, asked. She snatched the packet from her twin, bringing it closer to Usagi, and leafed through the pages. The other pages looked similar but with different textures.

"Huh," piped Ryoko, "these coordinates are all places in Tokyo. Or maybe just outside." Ryoko was tall and stocky—a big girl—homely, but with a confident poise and an easygoing smile.

Sara Moriyama looked up from her paper after nearly spitting out her tea, awestruck by Ryoko's display of knowledge. "How do _you_ know that?" she spat, too perplexed to be polite. Ryoko reddened and became angry.

"Why _wouldn't_ I know that Moriyama?" Ryoko nearly shouted. Rei dropped her forehead into her hands, mumbling something that sounded like _here we go again_.

"You barely passed Geography last year!" retorted Sara, indignant at having to explain her motive even though she was the aggressor. The twins began to shift nervously in their seats. Usagi couldn't help but be reminded of her own attempts to get along with Rei and felt a deep pang of empathy for Ryoko. No wonder Sara was Rei's number two. "I helped you study!" continued Sara, "You don't remember? It was very frustrating for the both of-"

"Guys!" interjected Rei, cutting Sara short. "Take it easy. I'm too tired for this."

Regaining her composure and smoothing her ruffled skirt, Ryoko apologized (to Rei) and said "As you all may recall, I'm in the Azabu-Jūban yacht club. We have to learn longitude and latitude in order to navigate. All these coordinates look very similar to the ones we've used sailing around the bay." Usagi was reminded again what separated her from Rei's remote scholastic world. These girls were wealthy.

"So it's a scavenger hunt," Rei guessed, rubbing her temples.

"Perhaps, but what are we looking for?" asked Hanako.

"I say we table this for next week." answered Rei. "It's probably just a mistake and I'd hate to wander around the city all weekend when I could be thinking about literally anything except middle school for 48 straight hours."

Sara lifted her cup of tea as though she were about to propose a toast and said, "Hear! Hear! Queen Rei has spoken." Rei rolled her eyes and the others began to return the assignments to their school satchels. "I am sorry," continued Sara, addressing Ryoko, "you know I get carried away sometimes."

Ryoko smiled. "Yes" she said, "but we'll see if I come to your rescue when you get carried away by the tide and lost at sea."

Ryoko's quip elicited an exasperated but joyful chuckle from everyone, especially Usagi, who had grown uncomfortable in the tension of the powwow—a rarity for someone like her who had neither a filter nor any shame. In her anxiety, she had consumed her coffee quickly and was feeling the rising rush of caffeine. Outside, the sunset had given way to the gentle blues and jade greens of twilight. The dazzling lights of Tokyo began to reclaim their domain—street lamps, neon signs, the glowing windows of buildings. Above it all, as though strung from the ceiling, a pale yellow moon (almost full) and a handful of stars bright enough to outstrip the city's light pollution punched little holes in the big empty blackness of the night sky. If Rei's soul was illuminated by the all-consuming fires of her passion, these were Usagi's lights—gentler, nocturnal, made for another world. Usagi always felt relief wash over her at the advent of twilight. The day was too real, full of the impossible demands of a society with little tolerance for dreamers such as herself. As Sailor Moon, she was meant to protect the world, not participate in it.

"Usagi!" Rei shouted. Her voice cut into Usagi's daydream. Rei was waving her hand in front of Usagi's face as if to rouse her from hypnosis. "We're leaving now," said Rei when she was sure she had Usagi's attention. Usagi noticed Rei's friends had packed up their things and were filing out of the café.

"Sayōnara!" she called out to them, "pleased to make your acquaintance!" Only Annushka, who was last to leave, turned to grant Usagi the charity of a slight smile and wave. ' _Sheesh_ ,' thought Usagi, ' _tough crowd._ ' She turned her attention to Rei, who was packing her things.

"Can I come read manga at your place Rei? Please please please? I'm not going to be able to sleep after this coffee!" Usagi whined.

"You? Unable to sleep?!" Rei snapped, "I didn't think such a thing was possible. You should have had tea like a normal person." She straightened her double-breasted uniform jacket and tightened her crimson bow tie. "Also, you mustn't listen very well. If you did, you would remember I said I'm tired and need to sleep, no thanks to you," she muttered through gritted teeth.

Rei was clearly delirious, because as she was saying this, she struggled to suppress a desire to invite Usagi to spend the night. None of Rei's school friends, especially those who populated her inner circle, could match Usagi's unwaning enthusiasm for manga. Alas, Rei had business to attend to. 'Heavy is the head that wears the crown,' she mused.

"But… but," started Usagi, tears welling up in her eyes. She almost admitted that she'd ordered coffee to impress Rei and her friends but her stirring emotions prevented that. ' _Was it really going to be impossible to befriend this girl_?' Usagi asked herself.

"Jesus, Usagi," said Rei, invoking the savior of her school's religious tradition, "pull yourself together. Come over Sunday if you want. I can't guarantee I'll be around to entertain you though."

Usagi immediately replaced her tearful grimace with a teary smile. "Thank you, Rei!" She shouted. Rei shook her head and curtly left the café. Luna, who had been left in Rei's empty seat, pounced into Usagi's lap. Usagi drained the dregs of her coffee and set the empty ceramic mug on the coffee table before her, which was littered with ancient teen idol magazines and tabloids. Amidst the literary riffraff, however, Usagi spotted a copy of the assignment that Rei and her friends had been discussing. She snatched it off the table and flipped through it again, declaring,

"Look, Luna! One of Rei's classmates must have left this here by accident. Now I know what I'll do this weekend: help Rei with her assignment! She'll be so grateful she'll have to be friends with me."

Luna rolled her eyes and peeked around at her surroundings to make certain she and Usagi were isolated enough from the other café patrons for her to speak.

"Usagi," she whispered in a tone dripping with condescension, "is that all it takes for you to find the willingness to do some schoolwork? A totally obvious ulterior motive?"

"Well," started Usagi, flustered.

"Listen to me," said Luna, cutting off the stammering blonde, "there's something very strange about Rei's assignment. I suspect it's the work of the enemy! As much as it pains me to agree with you, I think we should investigate. Rei is a strong-willed young woman, unlike you, and she may respect you more if you take some initiative here."

Ignoring Luna's ever less subtle slights, Usagi grinned and stood abruptly, casting Luna off of her lap and onto the floor. "At last!" shouted Usagi, "the day has finally come! Now the cruel taskmaster known as Luna is getting ideas from the wise and beautiful Sailor Moon!"

Luna, lying prostrate on the ground, observed in her periphery a few customers taking note of the racket Usagi was stirring up. Luna was regretting her choice of words already, but what could be done? Sometimes the only way forward with Usagi was to allow her to stumble blindly into the next right move.

* * *

Ami Mizuno had finally managed to chase off Rei's grandfather and was kneeling at the large square chabudai tea table in the middle of Rei's room, rolling a joint.

Such a sight would shock her peers, but the story behind it would not. Following Ami's hospitalization from a period of amphetamine abuse several years prior, her mother (a prominent and cutting edge physician) had encouraged Ami to occasionally use cannabis as a means of reducing the stress associated with her extraordinary academic efforts. By and large, it was a successful measure. Ami seemed to find a better rhythm after undertaking the treatment, and concerns that she might destroy her health in exchange for academic success mostly dissipated. Most importantly, she hadn't touched benzedrine since. Such stimulants were a common vice of the Japanese, where long hours and hard work were a way of life.

For someone who prided herself on being a quick learner, however, she was not a very handy roller of cigarettes. They turned out functional at best. Just as she was beginning to achieve the desired distribution of ground-up cannabis flowers inside the tiny piece of paper, a noise from outside the room startled her and she spilled half the contents onto the table. Her heart jumped and for a moment she readied herself to sweep the whole mess into her school briefcase, which was sitting ajar on the floor beside the table. Her fears abated, however, when she heard the cawing of two crows. The noise had been nothing but Phobos and Deimos, Rei's guardian crows, perching outside. Rei had instructed Ami to meet her at Hikawa Shrine after school, then called to say she would be late. Ami had agreed only because Friday was the one day a week she did not attend cram school. However, Juban Middle School let out an hour earlier than Rei's private school, so Ami had arrived considerably early. Otherwise, she would not have risked being caught preparing her ritual Friday evening joint.

Dutifully, Ami Mizuno gathered the cannabis she'd spilled and tried again—a little more hastily this time. Meeting with as much success as she was likely to enjoy, she licked the strip of gum at the top of the rolling paper and sealed the cigarette, tucking it into her bra with a lighter and the remainder of her stash.

Obviously, she planned to study until Rei arrived, but before that she needed a stretch. Taking a few gulps from the now-cold tea Grandpa Hino had provided her, she stood and stretched upward, noticing again with a mixture of satisfaction and embarrassment that her chest had grown a little recently. For the most part, she considered herself above or at least detached from the vanity and obsession with romance that absorbed most teenage girls. Her new friend Usagi was a glowing example of all those stereotypes. Nevertheless, Ami knew she was pretty and couldn't help but be gratified by her ceaseless progress into womanhood. She struck a pose in Rei's mirror then immediately turned away, blushing like a bloody red beetroot. Now facing Rei's bookshelf full of manga, she drew a volume at random from its place on the shelf and began flipping through the pages. It seemed to concern a middle school girl who'd become trapped in a novel about ancient China. Ami could see why Rei was interested in such a story—a story about the friction between tradition and the postmodern world. In Ami's estimation, this was precisely the prevailing narrative of Rei's personality: the zealous and disciplined young priestess (her ego) was struggling mightily to mediate the tug of war between her superego and a passionate, worldly and ambitious teenage girl (her id).

Ami had a habit of psychoanalyzing everyone she knew, especially those close to her. It was somehow more comfortable for her if she played the role of the doctor and the rest of the human race served as her patients—problems to be analyzed and solved instead of cryptic little mysteries that only ever deepened under scrutiny. She'd always felt like she was on the outside looking in—watching the scenes of her life unfold through a frosted windowpane in winter. That's why she avoided conjecture regarding her own mind, even for laughs. She was like a machine—a feat of engineering—finely tuned to suppress her base humanity and magnify her intellect. Her subconscious was just another mnemonic device. The fucked up part? She was OK with that. Any other relationship with humanity in general seemed far too messy. She wasn't going to repeat her mother's mistakes.

Just as Ami reached the nadir of her introspection, still clutching the manga and staring off into space, the door to Rei's room that opened onto the wide porch outside slid agape. In staggered Rei with the gait of a hamstrung zombie. She collapsed onto her bed, letting her satchel drop loudly onto the floor. Her transformation pen rolled out of the collar of her shirt and plopped onto the bed near her left ear. It was then that Ami witnessed something she'd previously thought impossible. Rei began to sob. Ami dropped the volume of manga she'd been holding and flew to the edge of the bed, where she took Rei's right hand into hers. Before Ami could ask what was the matter, Rei had recovered control of her faculties and was wiping the tears from her eyes. Ami reflexively let go of Rei's hand and simply gawked as Rei, with great effort, sat up in the bed. Rei ran her hands through her long black hair, setting all the errant locks back in their place behind her.

"Can you fix me some fresh tea and then take what you just saw to your grave?" asked Rei, staring outside instead of making eye contact with Ami.

"That sounds like a plan, weary traveller." said Ami with a smile.

Ami did as she was instructed, grateful to find the hallways of the shrine deserted and tiptoeing in the hopes that they'd stay that way. By the time Ami returned Rei's room, Rei had shut her door against encroaching fireflies, gathered the spilled manga, and knelt at her tea table. Ami carefully set the tray before her friend.

"I didn't know you were a Fushigi Yûgi fan, Ami." Rei said, grinning as she poured both of them a cup of steaming green tea. It would have been difficult to tell she had cried mere moments ago. Ami chuckled.

"If I had time for manga you'd never have to worry about summoning me during a crisis. I'd already be here taking advantage of your library. But from what I saw it seems like something you'd enjoy and that's enough for me. So yes. Huge fan," said Ami.

"What do you mean by that?" asked Rei, unsurprised but still puzzled by Ami's answer, " _something I'd enjoy?_ " Ami shook her head, implying she meant nothing by it.

"Anyway," continued Rei, "I won't keep you in suspense any longer. I called you over for a rather selfish reason. I wanted to pick your brain." Rei again averted her eyes, staring off into a corner of the ceiling. "I know a lot of people probably want to pick _your_ brain but this concerns our work." Rei's eyes finally settled on the tea remaining in her cup. "I haven't been finding enough time to sleep lately. Since I met you two and became Sailor Mars. When I do sleep it's restless. I think I may be stretched too thin. I'm just… out of my depth." Rei laughed and shook her head. Admitting weakness was foreign to her. "How do you do it, Ami? How do you juggle being Mercury and being Ami Mizuno?"

Ami closed her eyes and thought for a long moment. She'd rather Rei have been pregnant. The answer to Rei's question was simple but not easy. Ami doubted whether her friend was ready to hear it. Ami took a deep breath and said,

"I don't think we're going to have a normal adolescence Rei." Rei stared at Ami, glassy-eyed, waiting for her to continue.

"A few months ago when we confided in one another our doubts and fears about becoming Senshi," Ami said slowly, as though her words were flowers she was picking and putting together to make a bouquet, "I was having a crisis of faith. I always imagined that I'd study hard, get into a good college, become a surgeon and _then_ start living my life. But I realized that day that life is already passing me by—that I'd become stuck in this twilight where every action and reaction was merely in preparation for something that _might_ happen years down the road. By that time I'll be a different person, even if I do fulfill my dreams of becoming a doctor. I've never had close friends, Rei, as I've told you before." Ami paused again, searching for words, clasping her hands together and biting her lip.

"So to answer your question," Ami continued, "I had nothing to lose. I decided then and there I would devote my heart to fighting alongside you and Usagi. Becoming Sailor Mercury has given me the one thing I thought would always be beyond my reach: friendship. That's enough for me. But we're different, Rei. You have a life outside of your studies; a life that you may have to set aside if you're serious about being a Sailor Senshi. I know it's every girl's dream to be the most popular girl in school. And I know you lament that our generation is growing up too fast. But unlike our enviable peers, we don't have much of a choice."

Rei answered Ami with the same immutable glassy-eyed stare. Rei took a deep breath and sighed, as though she were wrestling with the full weight of Ami's heavy-duty revelation. "So," began Rei, "you're saying you don't take anything to help you study? Or sleep?"

Ami nearly fell on the floor. She had grossly misinterpreted Rei's question and had waxed poetic as Rei egged her on. Ami felt so foolish she didn't even have the wherewithal to be outraged at Rei's presumptive query. Rei laughed out loud, placing a hand on Ami's shoulder and giving her a reassuring squeeze.

"That was beautiful, Ami," said Rei with a roguish smile, "but I'm looking for the easy way out."

Rei's smile evaporated when tears welled up in Ami's eyes. "Oh god," said Rei, drawing her friend into an awkward embrace "I was kidding Ami Mizuno, kidding." "No," said Ami, gathering her composure, "I owe you the truth. I wasn't even upset about that. But now you're taking _this_ to _your_ grave." She brushed a lock of bright blue hair from her eyes, took a deep breath and said,

"Follow me outside and put your shoes on. We're going for a walk."

Rei stood, removed her blazer, and tossed it on the bed. She turned to Ami and placed her right index finger over her lips, imploring her friend to be quiet. Ami shook her head. The whole scenario had suddenly become absurd—more absurd than the rest of the human drama—and to a philosopher such as Ami Mizuno, this was a remarkable development indeed. Rei slid the door to the porch open as carefully as she could, really hamming up her overwrought attempt to be stealthy. It was at this moment that Ami knew that Rei knew what was tucked into her bra. ' _Did I mumble something in my sleep?_ ' Ami wondered.

The girls tiptoed onto the porch and donned their shoes. The night was expansive and cool, with a light breeze tickling the vegetation and everything taking on a magical new life in the moonlight, which was especially bright at the secluded epicenter of the shrine. Hopping onto the manicured gravel path, Rei led Ami into the woods. They walked slowly so as not to make too much noise crunching the pea gravel underfoot. The persistent pale silver moonlight sliced into the forest wherever it could. Soon the ground began to succumb to a carpet of fallen leaves— crimson almond-shaped beech leaves, toasted orange oak leaves, and the lovely little yellow fans that fell from the ubiquitous gingko littered the winding footpath. Autumn was coming to Tokyo.

Without warning, Rei veered off track and into the woods, leading Ami down a very narrow trail that was so vaguely defined it barely merited being called a trail. Ami was not an outdoorsy young woman. She felt herself being drawn into Rei's domain, as though a fairy were leading her just beyond the fringes of reality into an arcadian dream. After dodging the encroaching foliage of shrubs and small evergreens for longer than it seemed like they had travelled the main path, the undergrowth opened up onto a clearing. A small, roughly circular pond was responsible. The still water of the lonely pond defiantly cut out its place in the forest floor and parted the canopy above, allowing moonlight to come streaming in. For the most part, there was no perimeter to speak of. The forest marched right up to the banks of the water, even spilling into it, except in the case of an area that had been sectioned off to accommodate an unadorned wooden bench and a few crouching stone statues of shinto deities. "Welcome to Rei's retreat," Rei sang, swinging her arm in a wide arc as if gesturing toward some magnificent wide-open scenery. "Consider yourself lucky—this place isn't in the Hikawa Shrine brochure."

"How did you know?" Ami asked.

Rei sighed. "I divined it," she replied.

"And you just assumed I was going to share my medicine with you?" Ami demanded, "This is an experimental medical treatment Rei, did you not see that in the fire?" It was almost startling to hear herself speak so solemnly. It was not often that Ami Mizuno lost her cool.

"A treatment for what?" asked Rei, staring off into the forest, "being an uptight bitch? You need to get laid, Mizuno. That's the only treatment for your malfunction." Ami almost turned away and started back up the path, but Rei seized her wrist and spun her back around, grinning from ear to ear. "I know you didn't follow me out here just to lecture me," said Rei. "Besides, this isn't my first rodeo, cowgirl."

Ami knew she couldn't always be a mother to these girls—her first real friends. Eventually she would have to be a sister among sisters. Instead of indulging her bruised ego by arguing, she called Rei's bluff and reached into the top of her _seifuku_ , digging the joint and the lighter out of the left cup of her bra. She lit it up like an old pro, spinning the pinched-together tip in the quivering orange butane flame so that it would burn evenly. Rei watched in wonder. Ami took an especially challenging first toke, squinted at the astringent pain in her lungs, and blew the smoke into the moonlight over the pond. It curled around itself and roiled skyward as it dissipated. Rei was beaming at her, enthralled. Suddenly Ami's doubts left her and she handed the joint to her friend. Ami sat on the bench beside Rei and both girls repeated the ritual a few times in silence.

After the hash had her in its grip and all the cares of the day were receding into the horizon of her mind, Ami broke the silence: "Are you saying that you have clinical experience with the cure you mentioned?" she squeaked, turning so red that it was visible in the monochrome moonlight. Rei laughed.

"Nooo," drawled Rei, "But I think you knew that." Ami had a strong hunch.

"Whom do you have your eyes on at Juban middle?" Rei asked, "Or is no one there worthy of a genius like you? If you're looking for an intellectual equal you may be looking for a long time—longer than the remainder of your sentence at that establishment."

"Don't be ridiculous," Ami said, "If I had time to date, I wouldn't date middle school boys," Having said this strange thing, which happened to be the truth, Ami was unable to conceal a proud smile that bubbled up from the core of her high. She was always more comfortable and confident under the spell of the ganja. With the weight of the world lifted from her shoulders, she felt playful and in control. She often wondered if this was how everyone else felt all the time—free from the self-consciousness and social anxiety that had always plagued her.

"Woah-ahhh," gasped Rei, throwing her hands up as if to surrender, "big words from the mild mannered Ami Mizuno. Whom _would_ you date? I bet you're the sort of girl who dreams of seducing her teacher. Kinky!" Rei shook her head, passed Ami the joint and added, "It's always the quiet ones." For a moment Ami made no reply, then asked, "Got any irons in the fire at your school? I'm sure they're all lining up for _Queen Rei_."

"I go to an _all-girls school_ Ami," sneered Rei, who expected Ami to laugh and apologize for her mistake. To Rei's consternation, her blue-haired friend did no such thing. Ami only toked on the joint, assuming an austere countenance and staring straight into Rei's eyes. "You're kidding right?" choked Rei, tugging absentmindedly on the collar of her blouse.

"I don't know," replied Ami, flicking the resinous butt of the joint into the pond. The still-burning cherry met the water with a satisfying hiss. "I see the way you tease and bicker with Usagi—it's particularly ruthless, Rei. Even for a teenage girl." Rei had buried her face in her hands and was audibly groaning. Ami continued anyway: "Is it so strange to wonder whether, considering the traumatic circumstances of your childhood and family life, this is the only way you can express your affection for her? For young women in general? It's OK to be confused, Rei, this is a very fraught psychosocial developmental stage—"

At this, Rei could hold her peace no longer. "I asked you to stop analyzing me, Ami!" she shouted, adding "We talked about this." She straightened her blouse and reached for a tie that wasn't there. "Besides, I'm too stoned right now to try and screw with your head, and I'm afraid I have to put my foot down at you screwing with mine. That's not how our relationship dynamic works. I'm the lead singer and you're the quiet, mysterious guitarist—"

"So you're not going to deny it?" pressed Ami, who apparently didn't know how to quit while she was ahead. Rei stood, gazing up at the disc of night sky framed by tangled branches. She noticed a maple leaf sever itself from a gnarly, jagged bough. It sashayed through the beam of moonlight that illuminated the clearing, setting itself face-down at Ami's feet.

"This isn't fun anymore," Rei stated flatly, still peering skyward.

"I'm sorry, Rei. I didn't mean to upset—" stammered Ami.

"It's OK," Rei cut her off, flashing a smile to put Ami at ease. "Let's eat some junk food and go to sleep." She paused to sigh then added, "See what happens when you invoke Usagi? That's definitely something she would say." Ami rose from the bench, giggling half-heartedly, unsure of whether to believe Rei. One thing was certain—she was barking up the right tree, psychologically speaking. Rei's sudden termination of their dialogue and her use of humor to bandage the subsequent awkwardness were classic examples of deflection. Ami was close to striking the mother lode. She just had to wait until conditions in the mine—Rei's psyche—were favorable.

The trek back was silent and uncomfortable until Ami thought she felt a bug crawling in her hair. Her reaction, a flailing freak-out one might expect of a patient locked in the padded room of an insane asylum, drove both girls into hysterical laughter. No insect was found. After that the general vibe returned to a pleasant homeostasis.

Upon stealing back into the Rei's room with the stealth and ease of seasoned bandits, Rei retrieved a shockingly large box of strawberry-creme filled Koala's March cookies from the kitchen. The girls sat on the edge of Rei's unmade bed and enjoyed probably too many cookies. After washing her cookies down with some cold green tea, Rei rested her head on Ami's shoulder and began to snore. ' _Lightweight_ ,' thought Ami. Easing Rei back onto the bed, Ami tucked her in as best she could and knelt once again at the tea table, smoothing her untidy hair.

' _Finally_ ,' she thought, ' _some time to study_.'

* * *

In a lavish suite situated high in the tower of the Chiyoda ward's Imperial Hotel, Mei Onishi flitted into the suite's miniature kitchen, repeating these drink orders in her mind: _sake, red rice ale, sake, scotch, sake, Manhattan_.

The first order— _sake_ —belonged to her father, Yoshi Onishi, the oyabun (boss) of the Sumitomo-Kai yakuza family. He was also a world-class drunk and a degenerate gambler, but these additional descriptors were not normally mentioned upon making his acquaintance. In the spacious living room just outside the tiny kitchen atop a large round table, he and five of his guests were playing cards—a weekly ritual that could last until the early hours of the morning. For almost two years, Mei had been allowed to earn her weekly "allowance" by serving as the cocktail waitress for these functions. On a good night she could clear ¥200,000 as her father's kobun (underbosses) attempted to ingratiate themselves by tipping her extravagantly.

The second, third, and fourth orders— _red rice ale, sake, scotch_ —belonged to Masanori Yamamura, Mitsuo Nagata, and Fujio Hino, respectively. Yamamura was a preening & effeminate Councillor from the upper house of the National Diet who must have been pushing seventy by Mei's estimation. She gave him a wide berth because he was notoriously handsy and unabashedly lecherous. Mei passed his drinks across the table if she could manage. Nagata was a union boss—fat, balding and gruff but charming in a folksy way. Fujio Hino was the young and handsome Senior Advisor to the Mayor of Minato Ward, a rising star in the world of Tokyo politics. In other words, they were a bunch of small fries with shallow pockets. The real action happened when the game's participants were mostly gangsters, but money wasn't the only reason Mei had taken the gig. She was there to get an education, one that wasn't offered in middle school.

The fifth order— _sake_ —belonged to her father's bodyguard, a hulking man she knew only as "Saru." As intimidating as he was to others, he was sweet to Mei and made her feel safe when the games got too rowdy.

The sixth and final order— _Manhattan, Perfect (with equal parts sweet and dry vermouth)_ —belonged to Hiro Inagawa, her father's right hand man. That was the position he was supposed to occupy, at least. Since her father's drinking had assumed more serious proportions in the past few years, Hiro was more and more often forced to take the reigns and act as boss. In this capacity he had taken Mei under his wing, and she had to admit that he was a better father figure to her than Yoshi had ever been. In a gesture of affection that was perhaps toeing the line of risqué, she always garnished his Manhattan with a cherry. Hiro was a man above temptation, though. He was serious, deliberate, steadfast, spiritual—everything her father was not and everything that she aspired to be.

After plopping the cherry into the chilled cocktail glass that was beginning to sweat little beads of condensation, she lifted the tray of drinks and carried it gracefully into the living room. Smoky jazz driven by a melancholic trombone danced from a radio in the corner of the room and hung above the gamblers like a blue aurora, but it was barely audible over Yoshi's in-progress rant:

"… so you see, Mr. Hino," growled Yoshi as Mei set his drink before him, "this is why I'm imploring you to set aside your instincts as a politician and tell me the truth. Is _Sailor V_ an undercover police officer? Or working with your government in any capacity? She's already disrupted several of my operations within Minato Ward. In order for our mutual trust to remain in tact and healthy, I need your full guarantee that her identity is as much a mystery to you and your office as it is to me." As soon as he was finished speaking he slapped the table and swilled his sake in one gulp. Mei could tell he was already inebriated, as he was practically shouting. The more he drank, the less control he had over the volume of his speaking voice. At the mention of Sailor V, Mei shot a compulsory glance at Hiro. His face was blank. Mei continued to make her way around the table, carefully serving each man his drink.

" _Sailor V_ is a vigilante," answered Fujio Hino with a calm yet resolute confidence. "I think Councillor Yamamura will agree with me when I say that as long as she remains at large, she represents an embarrassing failure on the part of the Tokyo Metropolitan Police to reign in a menace to public safety." Yamamura closed his eyes and nodded solemnly in concurrence, which gave Mei enough time to set his beer on the table and move on to Mr. Hino, who continued: "And though the Mayor may never be able to communicate this to you directly, I can assure that both he and I prefer your _chivalrous organization_ remain the only menace in Minato Ward."

Hearing the young politician's reassuring words, Yoshi Onishi settled back into his chair. His brow furrowed as he drew the room into a charged pause. Mei snuck a peek at Hino, wondering if he had broken a sweat. Most of the outsiders who were granted an audience with her father had exhibited palpable fear, but not this man. Perhaps this was the meddle that had borne him to celebrity in the world of politics, a world that seemed to Mei to share its moral murkiness with organized crime.

"Very well," croaked Yoshi, allowing the tension to evanesce. Everyone including Mei relaxed.

"As you know, I've placed a substantial bounty on her head. If she should happen to fall into your custody first, I will still honor that bounty, provided she isn't too banged up when you're finished with her. Waitress, bring the sake _tokkuri_ to the table." It was the second time that night that he had mistaken Mei for a stranger. At least in this instance he had refrained from pinching her ass. She glanced again at Hiro but he had averted his eyes, gazing instead out the floor-to-ceiling windows that constituted the far wall of the room. Through them, a dazzling nocturnal cityscape was visible, twinkling with a billion lights. Beyond the towers of the megalopolis stretched the bay—grim and pensive, dissected by the Trans-Tokyo Bay Expressway.

"Anything else, gentlemen?" asked Mei dutifully.

"No thank you, sweetheart," said Councillor Yamamura, waving her off. Mei bowed to no one in particular, fetched three _tokurri_ full of high-end sake from the kitchenette, and delivered them wordlessly to the table. She noted that the conversation had turned back to poker before she retreated to one of the suite's bedrooms to take her break.

Wasting no time, she sat on the edge of the still-made hotel bed, settling there after the springs of the mattress bounced her up and down a bit. She extracted a cigarette and a silver serving fork from one of the pockets of her black apron. After witnessing her father go to pieces, she had made an earnest vow never to drink alcohol. But alas, by the time that vow had been tendered, she'd already developed a habit of smoking when stressed. In order to be certain she didn't smell of smoke and resin at school, she always lodged the butts of her cigarettes between the tines of a large fork. She was aware that apparatuses designed explicitly to perform this function were commercially available, but obtaining one would represent a commitment she wasn't ready to make. She was planning on quitting. Soon. Perhaps after her plans came to fruition.

Mei lit her cigarette and took a long drag. Having reminded herself of her plans, she again went digging in her apron pocket, this time excavating the folded-up assignment that had been distributed in Sister Takeuchi's AP Theology class earlier that afternoon. She unfolded it and studied it. ' _Is this decoy I've created convincing enough to lure Rei Hino—a.k.a. Sailor V—into my carefully laid trap?'_ she wondered.


	2. Chapter 2: Picking Up the Pieces

Mei sighed pathetically—the sort of cherubic sigh particular to a young woman that contains all the compounded worries and carefully cultivated hopes of her life so far—the sort of sigh one heaves alone, out the thick-paned windows of posh hotel rooms, as if to return the anxieties of the heart to the bosom of the city that sown them there.

She tossed her copy of the fraudulent homework assignment into the garbage bin and stepped over to the window. The view from the bedroom was less magnificent: Hibiya Park was visible below—a pool of darkness encircled by trees half-illuminated under streetlamps, boxed in by the high-rise monoliths of downtown Tokyo. Sometimes Mei felt a vaguely-defined longing to live a different life, a simpler life—cash in her chips, move to the country, be an ordinary teenage girl. The feeling was always fleeting, though. Her spirit had a restless quality that occasionally boiled over into bloodlust. 'My mother left me alone in this world,' she often thought, 'there's no longer a reason to pretend I haven't made a deal with the devil.'

Just then, a rapping knock at the bedroom door startled her. She realized her cigarette had burnt down to the filter. Its ashes were lying on the carpet between her feet. She set her makeshift cigarette holder in the ashtray on the bed and hurried to the door, cautiously opening it. Saru, her father's bodyguard, filled the entire frame. He was so formidable he was forced to bend a little at the knee to fit his bald head under the top of the portal to make eye contact with Mei.

"Your father's not feeling well, Mei. Tonight's card game has been discontinued," Saru said with his eyes fixed on the ground, knowing the news would anger Mei. There was something hilariously absurd about such a huge man, tough-looking in his yakuza tattoos and unkempt goatee, acting meek on account of a middle-school girl. No one was laughing, though.

"For fuck's sake," barked Mei, retreating into the room to fetch and light another cigarette, "he must have been tanked already when he arrived."

Saru continued to stare at the carpeted floor in the threshold of the door. Mei held her serving fork to her lips and pulled on the fresh cigarette, staring at the unmoving bodyguard with her free hand on her hip. Apparently Saru was waiting for her to dismiss him.

"Well," she began, lost in her feelings for a moment, "Let's go clean up?"

It was half a question and half a statement that posed another question: What else was there to do? She followed Saru into the living room, where Hiro was struggling to drag her father's dead weight onto one of the modern-style black leather couches that faced out the suite's wall of windows. Disgusted by the sight, Mei spit onto the floor where she stood. Hiro suspended his efforts for a moment to shoot Mei a stern look. Mei knew the man well enough to interpret his austere, fatherly looks—this one translated as: control your emotions and do your job.

As Saru moved to aid Hiro with her comatose father's lifeless form, Mei did just that. She cleared the card table of drinks and tidied up the kitchenette, leaving three bottles of beer on the counter so that when her father inevitably came to he could still his morning jitters. Despite his worsening condition and hands-off parenting style, Mei still cared for the man. He was family, after all. If it didn't hurt so much to see him deteriorate, she wouldn't have needed to control her emotions.

When she returned to the living room to tidy the poker paraphernalia, three younger gangsters had appeared and assumed control of the cards and chips. She recognized one, who was dealing a new hand to himself and his two cohorts, but couldn't recall his name.

"Mei," said Hiro, who was now seated on the couch that wasn't occupied by her unconscious father, "go downstairs and wait in my car, I'll take you home." His severity had softened a little.

"Yes sir," replied Mei, bowing deeply to everyone in the room.

With that, she gathered her things out of the bedroom and left, riding a crowded elevator to the hotel lobby.


	3. Chapter 3: A Lesson in Loyalty

Upon disembarking, she waded through a tide of late-night hotel guests who bobbed through the lobby like so many drowsy jellyfish: American tourists, flashy executives, beautiful women and lost-looking businessmen, a soccer team composed of children—the influx never ceased at the Imperial, especially on Friday nights. Mei had been working her father's card game here long enough to know the 5-star hotel in the heart of the city never saw ebb tide.

After exchanging her paper keycard at the front desk for a courteous nod from the young female attendant, Mei proceeded through the marble-floored vestibule and out the automatic sliding doors that comprised the primary entryway of the hotel. Under the roof of the wide, roomy portico that jutted from the front of the hotel, Mei reconvened with the evening air and found it chilly. This was not a grave concern for a girl in full formal waitstaff uniform. To the contrary, there was something viscerally invigorating about initial drafts of autumn air that filled her lungs.

A gaggle of automobiles was scattered throughout the portico, some idling as porters loaded or unloaded luggage, some still pushing their way in, others departing. Mei had no trouble, however, spotting Hiro's limousine, which was idling just beyond the of brink of the portico so as not to congest traffic. Dancing through the shifting maze of cars, bodies, and luggage trollies, Mei made her way to the limousine.

'One more cigarette won't hurt,' she thought as she leaned against the trunk of the white cadillac limo (short as far as these things went but still long enough to be called a stretch limousine) and sparked one up, fork and all. As far as she was concerned, anyone who batted an eye at an obviously underage girl smoking a cigarette with a fork was cordially invited to go fuck him or herself.

Mei spent some time observing the ballet of arrivals and departures before Hiro emerged alone from the hotel entrance. She hastily disposed of her cigarette and hopped into the cabin of the limo, installing herself on one of the white leather bench-seats that hugged the sides of the cozy passenger compartment.

Presently, Hiro opened the door and joined her. As he climbed into the car, he rapped on the partition that separated the driver from the cabin. As soon as he sat down and loosened his necktie, the limo lurched forward and they were off.

"I assume everything went as planned today," he sighed without missing a beat. Mei grinned.

"And why would you assume that?" quizzed Mei.

"Because I received word from my nephew that a certain Catholic nun, previously a teacher at T*A Private Girls School, recited her evening prayers locked in a cellar on his farmland in Hokkaido tonight," Hiro retorted. Mei thought she perceived the specter of a smile tiptoe across his expression. She fancied him proud of his handiwork, though he would never admit to that. She couldn't help but smile.

"That it did," she affirmed, adding "I'm eager to check the wherabouts of the tracking device I placed in Hino's, uh, ornament."

"Ornament?" Hiro questioned.

"Yes. it was shaped like a pen, but appeared to be ornamental only. The clip and decorations on top were made of solid gold. I almost regretted returning it to her," Mei replied.

"Hm," Hiro snorted, "Not surprising, considering her pedigree."

"What?" inquired Mei.

"I was certain I told you last week. That politician, Fujio Hino, is her estranged father," said Hiro.

"No way," Mei mumbled, taking a moment to zone out and absorb the information. She noticed the muffled lights of the freeway flashing across the heavily tinted windows of the limo cabin.

"Anyway," continued Hiro, "I have a few things for you," Hiro reached under his seat and produced a fine black leather suitcase, which, with some effort, he passed to Mei. She instantly understood why the luggage had troubled her mentor—the damn thing weighed a ton. After an incredulous glance at Hiro and a brief struggle, she managed to hoist it onto her seat, flip the latches, and open it. Her eyes widened. Inside was a Yugoslav M92 Kalashnikov automatic rifle, plenty of ammunition (this accounted for the weight), a baggie of exotic-looking marijuana, and another, larger vaccum-sealed plastic bag full of what looked like broken-up rock candy. She grabbed the larger bag and held it aloft.

"What the fuck is this?!" She demanded.

"That's a gift for my nephew," Hiro said, "deliver it to him and keep a tenth of the money he pays for it. You're welcome."

"So I'm a drug mule now?! What the fuck even is this?" pressed Mei, who was growing slightly hysterical. Hiro, as always, maintained his unassailable cool.

"You're traveling there on a private plane," Hiro laughed, "My private plane. There's no risk. A mule assumes risks, so you're not a mule. You're just a young woman taking something from a friend and placing it in the hands of another friend."

Mei shook her head. "Are you at least going to tell me what it is?" she squeaked.

"It's methamphetamine, Mei," stated Hiro. "And of course the marijuana you ask for every week, though you know I disapprove strongly of that."

Mei scoffed righteously at Hiro's rebuke. He was certainly demanding a lot to be chiding her for bad habits. Besides, he knew the sort of stress she was under. She was likely to go crazy without some way to blow off steam—or smoke, as it were.

"Well I don't know much about drugs but this looks like enough to land me in Fuchū Prison for a few consecutive lifetimes," Mei complained.

"Do you fear prison, Mei Onishi? Do you fear death?" Hiro snapped. Mei swallowed hard and made no reply, clutching the huge bag of drugs to her chest like a comfort pillow. "Success in this organization depends on loyalty and loyalty alone," continued Hiro. "Of course you're free to walk away at any time, no hard feelings. My other subordinates do not enjoy that luxury. And why is that? Ah, yes, it's because you're not yet a formal initiate. Now do you want to assume control of the Sumitomo-Kai crime family as your father's rightful heir or don't you? Demonstrate your loyalty."

Mei returned the contraband to the suitcase. She took the smaller bag of marijuana, which belonged to her, and tucked it into her bra. She closed the suitcase and stared at Hiro. There was no need to answer his rhetorical question. 'Of course he could compel any audacious aspiring thug to do his dirty work,' Mei thought, 'This is a test of loyalty.' Embarassment overcame her and she felt herself redden noticeably.

"At any rate, there's no reason for concern," Hiro began in a much less aggressive tone, "Hideyoshi, my most trusted driver, will arrive at your condo building at 5 AM sharp Sunday morning. Dress warmly, it will be cooler up north."

"Duh," said Mei, relaxing a bit. "I spent half my childhood in Hokkaido. Remember? You were there for some of it."

Hiro ignored her remark.

"As for Sailor V, Rei Hino, your friend," Hiro stammered, obviously exhausted and growing impatient "I'm sure you were relieved to hear that she is still a priority as far as your father is concerned. I trust that I will soon understand why it's necessary to lead her on a wild goose chase across Japan, as opposed to simply snatching the girl from her bed at this shrine where she lives."

"First of all," countered Mei, "she's not my friend. Secondly, she's a priority for you too—don't pretend like she's not. And as for my strategy, maybe I doubt that your boys can handle her." Mei grinned—the same devilish grin that so often enraged the subject of their discussion. Hiro scoffed.

"There's the Mei Onishi we know and love: obnoxious, ungrateful, and too confident by half," Hiro conceded emotionlessly, giving Mei's smile yet more life.

Just then, the car slowed and came to a halt. They had arrived at Mei's condo complex. Master and apprentice shared a moment of uncomfortable silence as Hideyoshi, the driver, circumnavigated the front of the limousine to open the door for Mei.

"Don't smoke too much of that stuff," Hiro chided, "stay focused."

Mei rolled her eyes as the stout, mustachioed chauffeur Hideyoshi opened the door to the cabin.

"Help you with your bags, ma'am?" he offered.

"I'll manage," replied Mei. Hiro couldn't help but smile slightly and shake his head as he watched his teenage pupil struggle to lug the heavy suitcase out of the car and onto the curb.

"5 AM!" he called after her, "Sharp!"

"Yeah, whatever," she shouted, "tell your wife I said hi!"

She blew Hiro a kiss. He remained expressionless, of course. Hideyoshi shut the door, returned to the helm of the limo, and drove off.

For a moment Mei simply stood on the sidewalk, lingering in the light of a streetlamp—one of a thousand that marched like sentinels down the mostly-deserted avenue, disappearing into a haze of mellow light.

"Help you with your bags, ma'am?"

The voice came from behind her, and she knew at once to whom it belonged. Mei whirled around to find her friend and lover Niko Akishima standing before her on the sidewalk, resplendent in a little red dress.

"I'm early," said Mei, "how long have you been here?"

"I had to sneak out before ten. So about two hours I'd say."

"Wonders never cease," said Mei, now smiling broadly. She drew a breath with which to make more snide remarks, but before she could speak Niko had pounced, occupying her mouth with a passionate kiss.

"Let's go upstairs," Niko suggested, "it's been a long week for you."

Mei agreed. It had been a long week.


	4. Chapter 4: Usagi On the Case

Saturday—9 AM. A bright and robust autumn morning had forced its way into Usagi Tsukino's bedroom, chasing away the mantle of darkness with its sharp, clear light.

There was a subtle unmistakable scent to autumn air that stirred something in Usagi's soul—a feeling somewhere between nostalgia and prescience wherein she became at once aware of the passage of time and free from the pull of its current—ageless.

No longer did summer's heavy humid miasma burden the city's atmosphere. Free from the heat and hypnotic drone of a billion whirring cicadas, Tokyo and her inhabitants drew new breath. One could taste the salt in the air as it whirled inland from the bay, turning trees into oversized rattles as it stirred their dying leaves, carrying the ripest specimens gently to the ground. Usagi loved the fall—she found it invigorating. This morning, however, she was struggling to greet it with a smile.

A solitary salty tear, glinting in the morning sunshine like a soft gem, welled up in Usagi's eye as she traversed the wall of sleep and returned to consciousness from a nightmare about being clawed at by a pack of berserk Yōma. The origin of her strange dream (rarely did Usagi experience nightmares) became clear at once: Luna was perched atop her chest, making biscuits through Usagi's pajamas with her thorn-sharp claws. Faced with the choice of a) screaming in Luna's stupid face or b) continuing to cry, Usagi chose to indulge in more tears. She had barely slept last night, and sleep—the right kind and the right amount—was extremely important to Usagi. Admittedly, it was her own fault due to late-afternoon coffee consumption. In her over-caffeinated state, she'd remained awake all night reading some manga magazines that may or may not have been stolen from the tables of the Beeline café. Perhaps her karma was catching up with her.

"Pathetic," yawned Luna, "you haven't been awake for a minute yet and you're already crying."

Luna's casual brutality angered Usagi enough to stay her tears. Grasping the fringe of her blanket patterned with crescent moons and bunny rabbits, she yanked it off of herself, ejecting Luna into the air. Flailing about helplessly, the sassy black cat failed to land on her feet, meeting the carpet with a dead thud. Usagi chuckled.

"Looks like karma won't have the last laugh after all," she sang as she tossed her long blonde locks behind her back and took in a little of the sunlight that was becoming less threatening as she began to awaken.

"Only you can go from tears to laughter in two seconds flat, Usagi," Luna groaned, picking herself up off the floor. "Are you ready to decipher Rei's homework?"

"Before breakfast? Pffft. No!"

After a cursory glance in the mirror, Usagi tended to the buns atop her head, which miraculously retained most of their structural integrity during sleep. For this, she credited her tendency to sleep deeply. According to Luna, she hardly ever tossed and turned. Usagi was good at sleeping. Perhaps better than most. In a just world, she would be honored and rewarded for her remarkable ability.

She untied the extra ribbons that held her unusually long pigtails together (unlike her buns, these had a penchant for fraying and tangling during the night) and bounced out of her room, taking the stairs too quickly and tripping down the last few. As she tumbled face-first onto the floor of the landing, she conceded that this was not 'her morning' and began to softly cry again. She felt Luna's paws on her calves as the cat stepped over her and headed into the kitchen.

When Usagi finally mustered the will to turn over, she was surprised to see two faces looking down upon her. One was the smirking visage of her little brother, Shingo, who was shaking his head and doing his best not to laugh out loud. The other belonged to her friend, the prodigy Ami Mizuno. At least Ami's brow was furrowed with concern.

"My God, Usagi! Are you OK?" pressed Ami.

"She's OK," laughed Shingo, "It happens all the time!"

Ami shot the boy a dirty look. To Usagi's surprise, Shingo ceased his laughter and blushed, clearing his throat and extending his hand to Usagi. If Ami had this kind of power over Shingo, Usagi would have to invite her over more often. She made a mental note.

"C'mon, sis," said Shingo, reemphasizing his gesture of extending a helping hand. Warily, Usagi took it and climbed to her feet.

"Thanks," she began, still slightly rattled. "Ami, I didn't know you were here, you should have woken me up!"

"I was just leaving actually. I dropped by to help you with that homework assignment on my way to cram school. I left it on the kitchen table with a half-finished note explaining everything I'm telling you now," Ami said, laughing awkwardly.

"I already thanked her," interjected Shingo, "I told her you need all the help you can get, Usagi."

"GO UPSTAIRS SHINGO!" Usagi screamed. Her brother shared an understanding glance with Ami and complied, but only because he was headed to his room anyway. Once Shingo had disappeared up the stairs, Ami leaned into Usagi and whispered to her:

"Luna asked me to come by and decode this assignment. I agree with her, it's very suspicious."

"Thank you Ami!" shouted Usagi gaily, drawing her friend into a clumsy embrace. Ami blushed. "Are you sure you have to go to cram school? Certainly skipping one day and hanging with your bestie Usagi couldn't hurt."

"I wish I could," said Ami, stepping into the foyer and taking the doorknob in her hand. "Oh, and Usagi—cut Rei some slack. She's been under a lot of stress lately. She comes off as mean but she cares for you more than she can admit right now."

Usagi nodded, struck by Ami's strange statement.

"Sayōnara," said Ami, departing.

For a moment Usagi stood in the corridor, rubbing her tender cheek where it had made contact with the floor. She pondered what Ami had said about Rei, envisioning the pretty black-haired miko staring into a crackling blaze. On the one hand, Usagi was relieved to hear that even if they weren't friends, Rei 'cared about her.' On the other, she was confounded by the mystery of Ami's words, which raised more questions than they answered.

Fortunately for Usagi, her stomach rumbled. Jarred from her soul-searching, she skipped into the kitchen, where she found a plate of pancakes in her spot at the table—first with her nose, then with her eyes. Beside it was the infamous assignment, along with Ami's note. Luna skittered into the kitchen and leapt up onto the table.

"Luna!" scolded Usagi, "You're not supposed to up there."

"Your mother's out shopping and your father's working the weekend again," the cat imparted. No cats on the kitchen table was Ikuko's rule, not Usagi's. Usagi shrugged and sat down at the table as Luna continued: "The geographic coordinates on each page represent a series of subway stations, followed by an unknown location on the outskirts of Chiba City. Ami was kind enough to allow you to borrow her pocket supercomputer today so you will be able to hone in on the final destination. She slipped it under your bedroom door so as not to attract your brother's attention. Be prepared to transform and fight. This whole thing stinks to high heaven!"

"Kind of like your breath," said Usagi casually with a smile. Luna rolled her eyes and decided she would let Usagi have that one for free, hopping into the chair beside her pupil and curling up.

Usagi, foregoing the knife and fork her mother had set out for her as she was not accustomed to using those utensils, greedily began to consume her pancakes by hand. There was nothing in the world quite like her mother's pancakes, and her temporary ecstasy was interrupted by a bolt of gratitude for her parents, who worked so hard only to be repaid with her bad grades and worse behavior. Again she thought of Rei, who wasn't blessed with a nurturing nuclear family like her.

"It must have been hard for her," Usagi found herself saying out loud.

"Hm?" meowed Luna

"Nothing," Usagi lied, polishing off the ramainder of her pancakes in a few healthy chomps.

After cleaning her dishes (a symptom of the sudden gratitude she had felt towards her parents) and preparing some coffee, for which she now had a taste and would probably require to maintain her energy during the journey ahead, Usagi danced upstairs and changed out of her pajamas into her fall favorite:a long pastel pink skirt, a forest-green button-up blouse and a worn, acid-washed denim jacket that she had inherited from her mother. She retrieved Ami's pocket computer from where it lay in the corner of her room behind the door, tucking it into a pocket of her jacket with her transformation pen.

She then visited the bathroom for light make-up and deodorant application, striking a few poses in the mirror before finally descending the stairs and preparing to leave. This meant gulping down her now-cool coffee and gathering Luna, who had fallen asleep in her kitchen chair, and Ami's note. On her way into the foyer, Usagi glanced at the note. At the top Ami had scrawled 'Azabu-Jūban Station—Ichigaya Station—Chiba Station.'


	5. Chapter 5: Simple Beauty

[Author's Note: It lives! Sorry it has taken so long.]

Considering she would have to take the train, a crucible she avoided if possible, Usagi excavated a canvas tote bag from beneath the jackets, sweaters and kimonos in the hallway closet. It was emblazoned with the logo of the Jūban library—another public amenity Usagi tended to avoid.

Luna, still drowsy from the first of her many daily cat naps, realized what this meant for her—at this juncture in her tenure as Usagi's mentor, she knew the drill, so to speak. She would not be allowed on the train if she wasn't hidden in the tote bag. Normally she rode in a more roomy and comfortable picnic basket but Usagi's mother had taken it shopping. Begrudgingly, she hopped into the tote bag as Usagi knelt and held it open.

With that, Usagi finally struck out, cutting a path to the train station through the avenues and alleyways of her neighborhood—a pilgrimage she'd taken so many times she was free to daydream as her feet carried her on autopilot to the her destination.

Despite her lamentable lack of sleep, there was a spring in her step, catalyzed by the caffeine of the strong coffee she'd imbibed and the delicious briskness of the breeze as it swept across her cheeks. The sun that had pulled her from her nightmares earlier that morning persisted in a cloudless sky, brightening the facades of her neighbors' houses and the white stucco retaining walls that lined the streets of her neighborhood. She made sure to imbibe the simple beauty of the familiar scenery. Considering the danger she was about to put herself in, she drank twice as deeply. Despite her reputation for being a jejune teenager, Usagi was probably happier and more fulfilled than the majority of her peers. She was always on the lookout for the good in herself, the good others, the good in the world—the simple beauty hidden in the nooks and crannies of a complex and troubled civilization. This utter, foolish lack of cynicism was probably the only thing keeping her devoted to her new role as a Sailor Senshi. She again thought of Rei, who was supposed to be so spiritual but didn't especially act like it.

'She must think I'm shallow and stupid,' thought Usagi, 'That may be true some of the time but if she could see what's in my heart, I'm sure we'd be friends.'

Upon arriving at the train station, Usagi was relieved to find that in accordance with typical weekend commuter traffic, the crowd awaiting transportation was reduced by almost half compared to a weekday. If she was going to be forced onto the train, she preferred to endure it on the weekend.

Her journey was unremarkable until she boarded her final connection: the train to Chiba station. Just as she settled into an uncomfortable plastic bucket seat, placing Luna carefully beneath her, a trio of young yakuza boarded the car, followed immediately by the pretentious (though admittedly handsome) jerk she kept literally running into around town. She immediately fixed her eyes on her feet, hoping neither party would notice her.


End file.
